The Ghost of Brom
by Oddwen Floddball
Summary: I was tired and got bit by a plotbunny. Just a silly little parody of the first Eragon book. Warning: don't get your eye poked out by a pun. Minor violence & tight leather.


Yeah...actually, I _did_ get bit by a plotbunny, and it _was_ late and I _was_ tired. I'd seen the movie the night before, and I'd been wanting to write a FF for the longest time, so I did.

Enjoy, or enjoy not. There is no in between.

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Eragon laid the last rock on the cairn, wiped his hands off on his legs and stood back.

"I wish he were not dead," he thought at Saphira.

She said naught, but laid her chin on the tomb. She glowed blue softly, and the rocks slowly turned to the clearest crystal until it seemed nothing stood between the body of Brom and the sky.

"It is all I can do for him," she told Eragon. "Now time will not ravish him."

"Thanks," said the ghost of Brom, wiping the ghost of a tear from his eye.

"What?!?" said Eragon confused.

"A ghost can only haunt a place until their body turns to dust," explained Brom. "Now my body won't decay, so I can remain in the world of the living as long as I want. Ha ha!"

"Oh no," thought Eragon and Saphira in unison.

"Hi," greeted a guy in a dark cloak. "I'm Murtagh. Can I come with?"

"Sure," agreed Eragon.

"No," disagreed the ghost of Brom. "I don't like him. Too sneaky."

"I wanna wanna go with you guys," insisted Murtagh. "You've got a dragon. You're really cool."

"Well you've got a cloak and you're all sneaky," explained Eragon. "You're cooler."

"I'm a ghost," revealed Brom. "I'm the coolest. And I say he doesn't come with us."

"We're going to find the Varden," mapped out Eragon.

"O.K.," Murtagh said, using a campaign slogan used by the supporters of Old Kinderhook, aka Martin Van Buren. "I'll go with you until you find the Varden, then I'll leave, because the Varden won't like me. Nobody likes me."

A poisoned elf dropped out of the sky.

"Ooh, she's pretty," gushed Murtagh.

"She's an elf," noted Brom.

"She has magic," Saphira mentally projected.

"She's wearing tight leather," drooled Eragon.

"I'm dying," gasped the elf before losing conciousness.

"Maybe I should loosen her shirt?" wondered Eragon.

"No. Take her to the Varden," suggested Brom.

"Just a little?" pleaded Eragon.

"Everyone on my back," thought Saphira. Forgetting that she couldn't carry three people and a ghost. Silly dragon.

"I'll ride on Saphira with the elf," said Eragon.

"I can fly," revealed Brom. "And I'll carry Mr. Sneaky here. But it will be hard. I can't fly over water, or under bridges. Once I start flying, I can't stop until someone says "I'm getting jiggy wid it" spontaneously. If I see a weathervane with the N broken off, I have to stop and make a new one from solid gold. I have a flying meter that I can access by pressing X - , and if it goes below seven, I lose experience and have to start again at my bindpoint. Heaven help me if I lose hit points. I hope you're not too fat, sneaky boy."

But Eragon was already tying the elf to Saphira's saddle.

"I'm afraid of ghosts," whined Murtagh. "Ghosts killed my entire family, except my father and me. And my Mom. Well, I mean, ghosts killed my hamster. After he was weakened when I didn't feed him for a week."

"Sneaky, thinks he's cool, and had a hamster," muttered Brom. "Sounds very familiar. Ah well. I should be able to keep pace with you, unless I happen to see too many broken weathervanes."

"I'm jealous," said Saphira jealously to Eragon. "Murtagh's prettier than I am."

"There's no comparison," dismissed Eragon. "He's a guy, you're a girl, he's a human, you're a dragon, you're blue, he's emo, you're full of youthful spirits and he's full of angst, you have a mysterious and possibly violent past involved with the evil king Galbatorix, and he's a wanderer from nowhere..."

"We're flying over some trees," barked Saphira.

"Leaf me alone," said Eragon woodenly.

"Now we're flying over a lake," said Saphira splashily.

"Go soak your head," said Eragon waving.

"There's some turbulent weather up ahead," blew Saphira.

"I will end Galbatorix's reign," stormed Eragon.

"There's a field," said Saphira flatly. "There's some sand," she continued, scouring the horizon. "There's a mountain," she said stonily.

"We're there," said Brom. "But I can't land until someone says the magic words."

"Drop Murtagh onto Saphira," howled Eragon urgently. Brom did so and Saphira landed in front of a waterfall.

"I hate ghosts!" sobbed Murtagh. "But not as much as getting wet!"

"There are twenty-two Urgal-Hais behind us," urged Saphira. "Six of them have bows. Nine of them are left-handed. They are carrying two halflings. They want to kill us."

"Let's run under the waterfall," suggested Eragon. "I haven't had a bath in a week."

They ran under the waterfall, forgetting that the elf was sick and might catch her death of fever. Silly adventurers. They were met by two bald old men, four dwarves, fourteen human guards, and Brom.

"Idiots!" screamed Brom hopping up and down. "You left me without saying the magic words! Luckily Galbatorix was riding by and saved me."

"Galbatorix actually said "I'm getting jiggy wid it"?" said one of the dwarves in horror.

"It's his catchphrase," explained Brom. "It was he who made up the rule that only saying that could stop you from flying."

"We have to get inside your heads, to see if you are spies," said one of the twins.

"The elf is sick," pointed out Murtagh, as a conversation starter.

"She's a princess," said Brom royally.

"I am Ajihad, leader of the Varden," introduced the guard with the sparkliest armor.

"You weren't supposed to say that," began one of the twins.

"Until we searched the minds of the intruders," finished the other.

"I am Ajihad," continued Ajihad leader of the Varden. "Leader of the Varden. I lead the Varden, my name is Ajihad. Hi, my name is Ajihad. I lead the Varden. I lead the Varden, my name is Ajihad and he is the son of Morzan," he accused pointing at Murtagh.

"Nobody understands me," whined Murtagh. "Except my hamster, and only when I was high."

"Eragon's mind is empty," said Brom loyally sticking up for his student. "Mr. Sneaky's mind is too simple to comprehend. That about takes care of it."

"Take the son of Morzan to a dungeon," ordered Ajihad, leader of the Varden. "The dragonrider has to take the old drafty dragon rooms on the eight hundred and ninth floor."

"Hi," Angela the Herbalist introduced herself.

"You!" wondered Eragon.

"I," agreed Angela. "I need more dragon knucklebones. Can I have some of yours?"

"No," said Eragon negatively.

"Solembum, kill," ordered Angela.

"Everyone hates me," moaned Murtagh as they hauled him away.

"HELLO!" screamed the elf. "I NEED MEDICAL ATTENTION, POSSIBLY FROM AN HERBALIST!"

Angela examined the elf. "Hmm," she said foggily. "The only cure for this is the heart of a werecat. Come here, Solembum."

"I wanna wanna see Murtagh," demanded Eragon.

"They just took him away," protested Brom.

Eragon followed the guards and watched them put Murtagh in a cell. Then he went to the window and poked his head in.

"Hello," greeted Murtagh. "Sometimes I write poetry. Wanna hear it?

_These manacles against my wrists  
are drawing forth the rich, black blood  
so life-giving, now life-taking  
iron my friend, give me life  
knife so razor-sharp, shiny and pretty..._"

"There's going to be a battle, and I'm going to be in it," said Eragon proudly.

"Tell him he's the coolest," said Saphira fondly.

"I can't, I'm fighting Durza," explained Eragon swiping at Durza's neck.

"That was pathetic," scorned the Shade summoning several spirits of the underworld. Ones that played guitars.

"Hey cool, will you teach me to do that?" asked Murtagh.

"No, I can't, you pathetic boy," said Durza surgically inserting a long piece of rope under the skin of Eragon's back. "You're too emo."

"Ow," said Eragon stabbing the Shade through his heart.

"That was pathetically easy," whined Durza with his dying breath.

The elf riding Saphira crashed through the priceless stained glass ceiling, sending shards of glass into everyone who had rushed in to congratulate Eragon on killing the Shade.

"You're riding my dragon," said Eragon with a sense of stolen property. "And wearing tight leather," he continued with a fanatical gaze.

"I am Arya, princess of Ellesmeira," introduced Arya, princess of Ellesmeira.

"I'm Saphira," greeted the dragon.

"I'm only wearing black until they make a darker color," confided Murtagh.

"I am Ajihad, leader of the Varden," bled Ajihad, leader of the Varden.

"I can't believe all this is happening," said Brom with disbelief.

"I was going to ask you to bless this child," put forth an old woman, "But she just bled to death, so I won't."

"I'm getting jiggy wid it," said Eragon.

Galbatorix and his dragon fell from the sky, impaling themselves on shards of broken glass and dying painfully.

"Yaaay," cheered everyone. "The dragonrider killed the shade and Galbatorix!"

"Arya, will you marry me?" proposed Eragon.

"No, I'm the future Mrs. Sneaky," refused Arya, holding out her hand and displaying a ring with a black jewel.

"We're going to be very happy," rejoiced Murtagh. "Unless she leaves me. Then I'll be depressed again."

"Fine," said Eragon mellowly. "I'll marry Nasuada, daughter of Ajihad."

"Leader of the Varden," finished Ajihad, leader of the Varden, dying with dignity.

And they all lived happily ever after.

_Epilogue_

The remaining two eggs hatched for each other, and became the first dragonrider team composed only of two dragons. Murtagh wrote a poem about it, and they both killed themselves. The end.

* * *

Thank you for reading, if you _did_ actually finish. 


End file.
